


Operation Reemergence

by LogicIsGod327



Series: A Rock to Cling to While We Catch Our Breath [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, And this is mild compared to some shit, Body Horror, Comet impact, Deep Impact meets The Road, Gore, M/M, My darkest work yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 05:16:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7421437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicIsGod327/pseuds/LogicIsGod327
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a warm July morning on the end of the world. The five preceding comets had exploded in the atmosphere and laid waste to more than half of the land on Earth, and billions with it. He remembers the night before, seeing the coming doom as a blue-white streak that stretched across the sky, a gash of white in the blanket of darkness. He knew, even at nine, that the odds were he’d never see the stars again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Operation Reemergence

**Author's Note:**

> Though there aren't any actual descriptions of the warnings tagged, the results, including human remains, are described. The things that happen while the Arks are sealed are not at all pleasant. Reader beware.

**July 10, 2016**

Six explosions on four continents.

One for Europe.

One for North Africa.

One for South Africa.

One for West Asia.

One for East Asia.

And an impact for Australia.

The comet they called Moirai, from the Greek goddesses of Fate, leveled much of the world on a bright Sunday morning. Spotted years in advance, the United Nations coordinated the Arks, huge underground cities constructed below major population centers. At first, they believed only a few would be constructed, but the process found itself easier than believed, so the planned 200 Arks doubled to 400, including one in Beacon Hills, California.

There was a last ditch effort to avert total disaster, but the specially designed nuclear weapon that would blow the asteroid to dust malfunctioned and misfired, turning one massive comet into six smaller comets. The largest, named Atropos II, was the one which would strike in Australia. Before that, Atropos I exploded over Europe, the shock wave so utterly powerful pieces of the Eiffel Tower would be blown into Ukraine. The order was then was Clotho I and II, and Lachesis I and II.

Derek remembers that day he was forced into the Ark by his parents. He remembers the tears in his girlfriend’s eyes as she watched him driven on the bus out of town. He remembers telling Paige that she would make it. That the 10,000 year winter was shortened to ten years, that she would live, because she was smart, and she was cunning, and because _she had to_.

His last sight of her for ten years was of her, sobbing as she watched the bus roll away.

The Beacon Ark was a smaller one, designed for only ten thousand, and Beacon Hills was a city of thirty thousand. Twenty thousand people left to shoulder a ten year winter. Inside, it was a warm, modern place with a school, a fully-stocked hospital, vehicles, and a massive hangar that had drones and jets, as well as military-grade Jeeps and plenty of weapons. The United Nations wasn’t full of fools, and they knew, when the people emerged from the Arks, there would be many people who had survived, who had done filthy, despicable things to survive, and who would have no issue doing filthy, despicable things to the people from these Arks. The people would need protection.

Derek buried his feelings of loss for Paige in his work, finding a niche as a Peacekeeper. He was to be part of the lead of Operation Emergence, the first wave of surface recolonization. He waited for the day it would come, July 3, 2026.

+

Stiles remembers all too well the crippled look on his parent’s faces when their application for the Beacon Ark was rejected. They worked their asses off to prove they were worthy, that a former-soldier turned police officer and a teacher were valuable assets to save from the apocalypse, but no dice.

It was a warm July morning on the end of the world. The five preceding comets had exploded in the atmosphere and laid waste to more than half of the land on Earth, and billions with it. He remembers the night before, seeing the coming doom as a blue-white streak that stretched across the sky, a gash of white in the blanket of darkness. He knew, even at nine, that the odds were he’d never see the stars again.

His parents had held him close as they waited and waited for the coming doom. They didn’t know the precise moment the asteroid hit, but the ungodly shaking preceded the shock wave by only seconds. He’d whimpered as the wind outside picked up, he could hear branches shattering and the windows rattling, his parents having been smart enough to screw plywood on all the windows to prevent them from shattering. Then, just as quickly as it started, it ended.

The Stilinskis went outside to inspect the damage, seeing trees snapped and broken windows, but that wasn’t what caught their eye. It was the fireball glowing to the southwest. So bright, and so utterly powerful, that the sun was a mere pittance compared to it.

Shortly after, Hell came to Earth.

+

**July 10, 2026**

Derek breathes heavily, loaded into the vehicle with his fellow Peacekeepers. They’re in sleek black body armor, the only color coming from their blue berets and the patches on their arms. He’d begged Captain Harris to allow him onto the first Jeep out of the Beacon Ark, and the grumpy old bastard had obliged him. As part of Alpha Squad, his mission was asset recovery and base establishment. They were to drive from the hills back into the valley, and bring any survivors they should encounter with them, as well as to determine the best area to begin recolonization in.

It’s a long drive down the runway to the still-closed blast doors, and his heart grew faster with each light they passed, as the black gateway to the outside grew larger, so did the lump in his throat. He swallowed it down as best as he could, and ignored the nervous sweat when their Jeep came to a stop. There was a great clatter as the doors, having been sealed for a decade, finally opened back up. The first crack lets in a blast of sunlight that has the men and women of Alpha Squad shielding their eyes, and when the doors are finally finished opening and their eyes have adjusted, they’re left in shock at what they see.

A forest, wide and green. Birds are singing, the towering pines are bright and green, and the deciduous trees are covered in buds. A deer is on the worn, cracked road leading back to the town, staring curiously at the Humans, still sitting in shock at the end of their tunnel. Finally, their driver seems to recover, and takes them out onto the road. Isaac, one of Derek’s few friends, looks at him with a shaken grin. They’re finally outside, and it’s scarier than either man expected.

In the fifteen minutes to Beacon Hills, Derek sees a lot of scary things. He sees cars, rusting in the road, the skeletons of their passengers unperturbed for a decade. There are blood spatters running down the sides, and each skull has a bullet hole in the back. The plates are from Wyoming, and Derek is left wondering what must’ve happened for those people to have made it all the way to Beacon Hills, less than ten miles from the coast, only to commit suicide on a lonely road. The most scary is the sight of his own driveway, overgrown, and the snapped and post that once held the Hales’ mailbox. But onward they go.

As they reach the edge of the town, it’s not pretty. There are burnt shells of houses, bodies lying in the streets and yards. It’s almost surreal, all the horror and ruination, contrasted by sunshine and birdsong. Isaac wretches at the sight of one skeleton, hands curled protectively around a long decayed stomach. Inside the cradle of bones rests a pile of tiny human bones, right where a child would have floated in its mother’s womb.

Eventually, the buildings start regaining form. There are houses which appear recently entered. One has a collection of cars piled in the yard, and tracks on the grass, and Derek grips his weapon tighter in response. There’s no telling the intent those people have. A lot of people objected to the application system the UN used to determine survivors. They believed it should have been a lottery, with every citizen over eighteen and their dependents entered, and survivors might be less than happy to see that the Arks were preparing to resettle the world.

As they reach the heart of the town, Alpha Squad has to pause to radio back to the command center about an unexpected development. A mesh wall of stacked cars, collapsed vehicles and fencing has formed a barrier protecting the inside. They fail to see the scout watching from a distant rooftop.

  
+

Danny runs as fast as he can, all the way to City Hall. He bursts through the doors, ignoring the armed guards posted at the entryways and skids into Deaton’s office.

“They’re here!”

Immediately, their leader and former vet, stands in shock. “Raiders?!” He demands.

“No, the UN opened the Ark. There’s a Jeep full of Peacekeepers outside the Saratoga Avenue gates!”

Deaton’s face blanks before resuming composure. With a sigh, he stands, and grabs his weapon. “We’d better go greet them, then. Get Scott and Stiles as well.”

Danny nods eagerly.

+

Derek is a little shocked when he sees four men walk up to the gate and open it. It’s not difficult to tell who the leader is, and his training makes it even easier. The three teens physically defer to the older man, who is wrapped in a faded wool jacket and torn jeans. The other three boys are all dressed similarly, all clutching rifles and staring defensively. Finally, since Derek is the trained diplomat, he steps out of the vehicle, holding his own rifle.

“I’m Lieutenant Derek Hale, with the United Nations Peacekeepers. The Ark Program has reached its end, and we’re looking to begin recolonizing the surface.”

  
The dark skinned leader’s defensive look goes slack. “Did you say Derek Hale? Talia and Evan’s son? It’s me. Derek, it’s Deaton!” He rushes forward to engulf Derek in a tight embrace, and looks him up and down. “My God, you’ve gotten big.”

“I can’t believe you’re alive!” Derek grins madly at the older man.

“Well, come on, get in here, we’ll get you settled!” One of the boys, Scott, calls out, a lopsided grin painting his face.

Inside, things are different. People walk around, tending to gardens and chattering excitedly as the news of the Arks opening spreads like wildfire. There are parents walking children only three or four years old, born in the heart of winter.

A member of their squad, Erica, speaks up. “How many people do you have here?”

“There’s not quite two thousand of us. Most of us are from Beacon Hills, but a few stragglers from the area around, and even a family from Texas.” The third boy, the tall one with a smattering of moles and honey-colored eyes, replies.

At Deaton’s office, set up in City Hall, Derek hands him a small tablet with a preloaded video.

‘ _If you are watching this video, it means that the expedition to your settlement has been successful, and your area has been chosen to be part of the first wave of recolonization from the Arks. My name is Samantha Power, Secretary General of the United Nations. We know you may be scared, you may be starving, but that is over. Soon, food, medicine and shelter will arrive. You may have some in need of medical care, and we will attend to that, as well. The hospitals inside the Arks are more than capable of providing for your medical needs. We look forward to working with you to reestablish this great nation and our great world. Thank you, and godspeed._ ’

Deaton gives a derisive snort. “Do you really think we’re doing that poorly? I’d say we’ve done well considering the apocalypse happened.”

“Agreed.” Isaac speaks up.

Later, each of the members of the squad is given a guide to show them the facilities that Beacon Hills has to offer. The boy Stiles is given Derek, and he’s an excitable, somewhat hairbrained boy that prattles on about defensive structures and incidents that had ended both positively and negatively. Stiles is knowledgeable about so many practical matters regarding the maintenance and defense of the town, it impresses Derek. As he’s walking through one of the residential neighborhoods, Stiles lets a term slip that disturbs Derek.

“The street used to be the heart of a blood cult, but we cleared them out in establishing the wall.” He mentions casually.

“Blood cult?!” Derek asks in shock.

Stiles looks at him like he’s grown a third head. “You guys didn’t have Internet after the impact? The videos were all over social media.”

“It was a closed Internet, only between the Arks.” Derek shakes his head.

“Oh, God. Well, remember hearing about all the doomsday cults that formed when they discovered the comet?” Stiles asks, and Derek nods. “One of them, the Church of the Blood Drenched God, got really big. Hundreds of thousands in the US alone, millions across the world. It was pretty fringe at first. They did fucked up shit, but only to each other. After the food ran scarce, they started out on other people. Death squads roved through towns. They’d round up twenty or thirty people, and they’d film it as the did unspeakable stuff. Rape, torture, murder. Then, when they’d killed everyone, they’d eat them. Said that the Blood Drenched God demanded suffering and sacrifice. At first, the cops and the military put them down. They’d get the cults, and broadcast live as they shot entire groups dead. Men, women, children, killed by the hundreds. They took down the Facebooks and the Twitters, but two more popped up for every one put down. My mom said it was like that old Greek myth, the, uh… what was it?”

“Hydra?” Derek offers, voice level in horror.

“Yeah, that. When shit got really bad, they stopped trying. You’d see videos of fires on the ridges and mountains, people chanting. They’d do some messed up shit. You can’t imagine what it was like.”

Derek thinks back to Paige, and he has to know. “Where did this cult do their sacrificing?!” He demands.

“They had most of the west side of town. There were so many that not many people could get out without being caught.” Stiles says.

Derek’s heart drops to his stomach. Paige’s house was on the west side of town. He’d spent so many nights on her back porch with her, watching the sunset. The thought of her anywhere near those cannibal psychos was too much to bear.

“We have to go there.” He says, voice determined. “I had someone who lived there.”

“Derek. Don’t. You shouldn’t go there, you won’t like what you find.” Stiles’ voice is almost listless, though there’s an edge of concern. He knows exactly what’s waiting for Derek, and he knows it’s not good.

“I have to know!” The soldier begins running to the heart of the cult’s camps. For some reason, Stiles is unable to let him face it alone, so he follows.

They reach the low, one story ranch to find the front door barricaded shut, and the property looks abandoned. It’s twilight now, and the sun has slipped below the mountains that once housed the horror of human sacrifice. In the dusky purple world, the faded white siding seems even more ruined. This house hasn’t been touched in years.

Derek finds his way to the side door, where he discovers it kicked open. Wandering inside, he turns into what was clearly once a girl’s bedroom, the lilac painted walls and the ragged, water damaged boy band posters a clear indicator. The room is a mess. The bed frame is kicked to one wall, snapped in two, the mattress missing. There’s a desk with the drawers open, and a dresser that’s been kicked over. Where the bed once occupied is a terrible sight: ten raking claw marks on the floor, human fingernails leaving their trace. Derek’s breath has grown hysterical, and his face, paled by the dusk, is growing paler still.

Following into the hallway, the scratches resume on the wall. Eventually, a bloody smear picks up where a whole fingernail has been embedded in the brittle drywall. At the opposite end of the house, they reach the horror of the living room. The mattress from Paige’s bedroom is in the center, and it’s horrible. There are two bloody handprints near one end, on either side of an outline of a human head. There are more off bloodstains, forming the demented outline of a human figure, until, right where the hips would be if a person laid on it, a massive stain of blood so thick, even ten years later, it is jet black. Piles of bones, ribs and limbs, rest in a corner, covered in bite marks.

There’s blood everywhere. On the walls, the floors, the rotting furniture. In the fireplace, a charred skull rests, one side bashed in with a blunt object. The head’s body rests not far away, an arm missing, the bones broken and fractured, the marks of a sharp knife rittling the corpse. Another rests, its neck broken and ribs crushed, staring at the fireplace. There’s a third skeleton, smaller than the other two. The hips are broken, the joints connecting the legs to the hips at odd, unnatural angles. Even years later, the wrists are bound together, and a lower leg is gone, removed with an ax or machete based on the even slice of the tibia and fibula. On one hand rests a small, silver ring. The very same ring Paige’s grandmother had given her for her birthday that year.

Derek breaks down on his knees, a long, agonized wail coming from him. Stiles is speechless. He’d been shielded from the very worst of what the blood cults had done, listening to his mother’s warnings never to wander towards where they had once committed their atrocities before they died in the famines and plagues or they wiped themselves out. But this, this is too much. He grabs the sobbing man, and hauls him away. Drags him outside, and forces him to walk until that house of death is no longer visible, and breaks down beside him, his own tears shedding themselves.

They’re sitting on a curb, their sobs retreating to hiccups and sniffles, and Stiles speaks again.

“My mother got sick during the winter. Melissa said it looked like a form of dementia. She had hallucinations, lost time. She thought people were trying to kill her, that her food was poisoned and that she was gonna be raped and killed. At the same time, arctic wolves were taking advantage of the new climate. They wandered down from Canada to California, and they picked off anyone who was alone. One night, during a bad snowstorm, Mom got out, and wandered over the wall. A patrol saw her, and tried to get to her, but it was too late. A pack of wolves got her first.” He says, morose.

Wordlessly, Derek offers the younger man his hand. The other boy takes it. It’s the start of something greater.

+

**June 27, 2029**

‘ _Good morning, Beacon Hills. Today is Wednesday, June 27, and the weather is a balmy seventy two and sunny. Overnight news includes music sensation Beyoncé dropping her first album since recolonization began, and already iTunes has released numbers indicating a million purchases in twenty minutes. Secretary General Power signed a bill passed by the General Assembly to begin a colony on the moon. Launches will begin next summer from the newly finished Montauk Spaceport…_ ’

Stiles slams his hand on the alarm. Six AM comes far too early, but he has work to do. The United Nations lets no man sleep when he has work to do. Derek is still a sleeping lump of a man, but there are signs of life in him. Stiles goes, takes a leak, and slips into a suit, grateful he remembered to shower the night prior. When he emerges from the en suite, Derek is rubbing his eyes and stretching.

“Morning.” His voice is scratchy with sleep.

“Good morning.” Stiles says with a peck to his fiancé’s lips. He heads downstairs to find Laura occupying most of the couch, watching the latest episode of god-knows-what on the DVR. Cora is still asleep, as is Evan, and Talia is sipping coffee at the kitchen counter, reading the Times on her tablet. There’s a steaming mug of the stuff sitting on the counter for him, and he takes it gleefully.

“Folger’s, Talia? What would Isaac say?” He asks, mockingly scandalized.

The older woman raises an eyebrow at him. “He’d crack some sort of incest-related joke, all because of that damn commercial.” She returns. “And I would tell him to shut up since we haven’t reclaimed his precious Columbian growing grounds yet.”

Stiles snorts. “I’m honestly amazed a man who hasn’t had Columbian coffee since he was nine can wax poetic about it the way he does.”

“Amen to that!” Laura calls from the couch. She gets up and approaches, wrapping her arms around Stiles’ neck and hanging from him. “Oh, my darling Genim!” She feigns a Southern belle with skill. “Won’t you escort me to the San Francisco Bay? I’d hate to travel all by my lonesome through those terrifyin’ woods!”

Immediately, Stiles joins her game. “Why, Miss Hale, it would be my honor to accompany you to your destination. Mrs. Hale, I swear, on my honor as a fine Southern gentleman, I will see your daughter to safety. You have my word.”

Talia seems prepared to join in, but Derek enters the room. “I didn’t realized we’d move to Alabama. Well, it’s been a blast Stiles, but I have to cut off the engagement and marry a cousin.”

Stiles drops Laura on her ass, the woman giving a sharp yelp, and instead presses a brutal kiss to the other man’s lips. “Do it, and I will cut your balls off. If I’m getting left for anyone, they better have at least one album, be a frequent guest star on a major television network, or have a supporting role in an Oscar-nominated movie. At least.”

“Never. You’re stuck with me.” Derek replies.

“Good.”

The three of them, Stiles, Laura, and Derek, have all joined the Diplomatic Corps, which was revamped as part of the recolonization efforts. In the face of a lack of communications infrastructure, the Diplomatic Corps is utilized for carrying important, sometimes top secret information. Another important function of the Corps was survivor’s outreach. Communities like Beacon Hills were surprisingly common, walled off towns of people who’d escaped the harsh decade of winter and the ravenous cannibals of the blood cults.

The cults were another matter entirely. More had survived than expected. Once towns had organized and put up defenses, they lost their easy pickings, instead retreating to wander the roads and highways, picking off other travelers. The usual result of a cult being discovered was summary execution, though some had been brought to trial, which had brought out a turbulent legal debate. ‘ _What_ ,’ One defense lawyer infamously said, ‘ _Can these men and women be charged with? Ensuring their survival? Did they commit acts that we consider heinously immoral? Absolutely. However, they did so in extremely dire circumstances necessary for survival. There is no legal precedent for such events._ ’

The prosecutor had refuted, having an ace up her sleeve. ‘ _Actually, your honor, there is. Regina V Dudley and Stephens, 1884. Four men were stranded on a life raft, and three killed the fourth and ate him. Subsequently, despite being in a state of extreme desperation, the three were tried and convicted of murder, and sentenced to die._ ’

The cultists were executed after being found guilty of crimes against humanity.

Outside the newly-renovated Hale Manor, John Stilinski, the new Sheriff for Beacon County, waits, leaning on the armored vehicle that will transport his charges to San Francisco for the two week long West Coast Redevelopment Conference, one of countless regional gatherings to map out the progress of rebuilding.

It’s a two hour drive to San Francisco, and Stiles takes a moment to admire the new skyline of the city, still under construction. Unlike much of the rest of the country, where many skyscrapers were simply in need of cleanup and maintenance, San Francisco had been rocked by a harsh 6.8 earthquake that, combined with damage from the winter and general neglect for nearly a decade, had brought down almost all of the buildings in the city. They’re four days into the conference when Derek, Stiles and Laura are called to speak.

“The floor now recognizes the delegation from Beacon County.” An aging bureaucrat calls from his podium.

Laura, as the head of their delegation, speaks first. “Thank you, Chairman Gowdy. The report for the 2028-2029 year is as follows. All 10,134 residents of the Ark have been resettled in the town of Beacon Hills. 12,367 structures within the county have been either repaired or demolished, and only 2,668 remain to be dealt with. All completed structures are in compliance with building codes, unemployment within the county is below 2%. In short, things are looking good. We believe that resettlement is entirely on track.”

As Laura goes on, Stiles wordlessly offers his hand to Derek. The other man takes it with the slightest smile. It’s another start.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried channeling The Road by Cormac McCormic, and I was informed I had done so quite well. The case mentioned, Regina V Dudley and Stephens, is an 1884 case from Victorian England involving four shipwrecked men. This case established that crimes commit under dire circumstances are still crimes, and that people can be punished for murder. The three men had their sentences commuted to six months in prison. I'm enjoying this series immensely, and I hope you are too. Drop a review!


End file.
